


Tough Choices

by TrustDivineChaos



Category: Penny Dreadful: City of Angels (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Gen, Spoilers, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24973162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrustDivineChaos/pseuds/TrustDivineChaos
Summary: The Pachucos are rioting, forcing Rico to make choices he doesn't want to make and accept things he wishes weren't true.Fix-it fic for the finale. Rico-centric. Still sad.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Tough Choices

“Mateo!” Rico yelled, grabbing the younger Pachuco’s arm, “We have to go!”

The streets were in chaos. Rio had spurred them on and now had the violence she wanted. 

“We have to fight, Rico!” Mateo argued as bodies slammed into cars and fists flew all around them. 

Rico shoved away anyone who came too close, throwing a couple swings of own, but mostly trying to stay out of it. “I’m not gonna die here, ése!”

Defiantly, Mateo pulled out of Rico’s grip and ran off towards Rio. 

Rico stood there a moment, watching him leave in disbelief. He’d thought he could have gotten through to him; he’d thought they were friends. The heartache he felt now betrayed just how much Mateo meant to him. From the moment they’d met, Mateo had been drawn to him, or so he’d thought. In truth, Rico realized now, he’d been the one who’d grown attached. Mateo might have joined the Pachucos because of him, but that wasn’t why he’d stayed. Rico had been a fool to think otherwise.

Forceful hands suddenly pushed Rico forward, snapping him back to the present. He lurched into another person nearby, but managed to stay on his feet. His attacker came at him again, but he turned in time to dodge the assault and land a punch of his own to the sailor’s gut. 

Trying to forget about Mateo, Rico was driven by a single thought: _I need to get out of here._

Slipping through the crowds and escaping the violence was easier said than done. The fighting had spread farther and quicker than he’d thought it would. 

Eventually, Rico was able to break free of the mob and then he started running. He ran and ran until the cacophony of the city faded into the distance. He stopped then, bending over to catch his breath with his hands on his knees. Thoughts of Mateo crept into his mind as he rested, doubts that he shouldn’t have left him behind, and then pain in remembering how _Mateo_ had left _him_. _He made his choice,_ Rico thought. _And so have I._

Walking now, still second guessing his decision with every step, Rico found himself in Belvedere Heights. This had been his destination all along, but he wasn’t supposed to arrive alone. Though he knew what he’d find, thought he’d prepared himself for this moment, seeing Diego hit him hard with a wave of emotion. He’d known Diego’s story wouldn’t have a happy ending, but it wasn’t supposed to end like this. He deserved better. He deserved a proper burial, not to be left out here all alone, forgotten for the sake of more senseless violence. He deserved to be mourned and remembered.

Not wanting Diego to stay up there any longer, Rico wasted no time cutting the rope that the cops had tied around the light post. He winced at the heavy thud Diego’s body made when it hit the ground. “Lo siento, hermanito.” Had he had others with him when he’d done this, as he’d wanted, someone else could have caught him and saved him from further disrespect. 

Rico wasn’t sure what to do next. He straightened out Diego’s body, smoothed down his clothes, as he made up his mind. Again, had the others been with him, they could have carried Diego to some meaningful space and given him a proper burial. But could he do all that on his own? Where was he supposed to take him? He realized he knew hardly anything about where Diego had come from or if he even had family somewhere around here. He wanted to do right by him, but wasn’t sure how. 

With a terrible idea guiding him, Rico heaved Diego’s body up over his shoulder. 

A short while later, Rico carefully lay Diego down on the ground in front of the shed. His head had barely touched the ground when Rico heard a screen door slamming behind him. 

“Who’s out there?” the gruff voice called, not seeing him clearly in the dark. 

Rico stood with his hands raised defensively in front of him. “I didn’t know where else to go.” 

The taller man was now joined by two women, the older of which marched straight up to him. 

“Why are you here? Where is my son?” 

“They’re rioting in the city,” he explained, “I tried to get him to come with me, but he wouldn’t.”

She slapped him then and Rico was stunned into silence.

Before either of them could say any more, Maria gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. She stepped around Rico to get a better look behind him and crossed herself quickly once she saw what he’d brought. 

“This is the boy the police killed?” she asked. Rico was hardly surprised that news had already reached the neighbourhood. Hell, they’d probably seen him themselves when they’d come home from The Cat. 

Rico nodded. “Mateo said you pray to Santa Muerte. I thought you might know what we should do.”

Raul had joined them now, though Josefina stayed back by the door. 

“Did he have family?” Raul asked, seeing Diego’s poor, broken body.

“I don’t know,” Rico replied shamefully. Diego had never talked about a family, which might mean he didn’t have one, but it could have meant other things too.

“You must bury him,” Maria answered, tenderly fussing over Diego’s body. “Raul will help you take him to the cemetery.”

“Mama!” Raul replied in protest. 

“No, mijo,” she continued, rising again. “This boy deserves to be buried with the others there. It cannot wait.”

Knowing better than to argue with her, Raul and Rico picked up Diego’s body again and made the slow, awkward walk to the cemetery. After ten minutes, neither of them had said anything other than to ask for a moment to adjust their grip or catch their breath. It wasn’t until they were nearing the cemetery that Raul finally broke the silence.

“I thought Mateo looked up to you.”

“So did I.”

“Then what happened back there?”

Rico shrugged. “People are angry. _I’m_ angry. They think violence is the answer. I don’t.”

“So you abandoned them? Ran away like a coward while my brother is fighting for our people?” Raul almost dropped Diego’s feet he was getting so worked up. 

Rico did feel like a coward and partly hated himself for leaving but was desperately trying to convince himself that he’d made the right choice. “They’re not gonna win.”

Raul scoffed. “It’s not about winning, pendejo. It’s about making them pay for what they do to us, showing them that we won’t just lie down and let them keep killing us like it’s their right.”

“And they’re gonna kill us tonight and tomorrow and every _fucking_ day until _we’re_ gone or _they_ are.” Now it was Rico who almost dropped Diego out of frustration.

“So we do nothing? How’s that going to end up any different?”

“We live to see another day.” Rico shook his head. “We find a way to make the people see us as something other than the animals those bastards think we are.”

“That’s why you wear the fancy clothes and charm them with your moves,” Raul replied mockingly. “You’re still criminals and they still don’t care if they string us up or slaughter us in the streets. They’re afraid of us because the police and the government and _everyone_ with power says they should be. But we are not powerless.”

They’d reached the cemetery now and began to weave through the tombstones as silence settled over them once again. They were able to find an open area where they could set Diego down. Raul then found a shovel and handed it to Rico. 

“You’re not going to help?” Rico asked.

“Mama said help take him to the cemetery,” he replied with a smirk. “This is what you chose over staying to fight with my brother, so get to work.”

Shaking his head, Rico stripped off his jacket and began to dig. Despite his remarks, Raul eventually found a second shovel and joined in. Together they were able to dig a reasonable grave for Diego and bury him within it. They were both filthy and exhausted once the task was completed, but Rico felt better having done it. A heavy weight still pressed on his chest and pained his heart, but at least he could say he’d accomplished one good thing tonight, if nothing else.

After saying a quiet prayer, Raul began to walk away. Rico considered following him, but instead took a seat at the foot of Diego’s grave. 

Unbidden tears began to fall down his cheeks before he could even make sense of his feelings. He was mad about what had happened to Diego, mad at Rio and Mateo, mad at the cops, mad at the world, but he was also scared. He was terrified. That could have been him they’d caught and strung up in the street. Any day now they could take him. While he certainly didn’t deserve Diego’s end - no one did - he was no saint. The cops had more than a few reasons to arrest him. And what would stop them from killing him too? He wasn’t ready to die. He also wasn’t ready to be alone again. 

For years, growing up, Rico had had no one. He’d had to fend for himself and do whatever it took to survive. But then he’d taken up with the Pachucos and he’d found a family. For the first time in his life, he’d felt loved and respected. He’d felt that still tonight as they’d marched out of The Cat together. He’d felt strong and proud. But then it all went to Hell. Just like that. Even Mateo’d abandoned him. His familia might not take him back after this. He wasn’t sure if he wanted them to. Tonight had proven, once and for all, who was really in charge of the Pachucos. 

He sat there awhile, lost in thought. He’d made his choice tonight, they all had, and he would have to live with it. He didn’t know what that would mean for tomorrow, but he was stubbornly comforted in the knowledge that he would get a tomorrow. Sitting here, of all places, amongst the dead, Rico was grateful for the life he still had. Even if he’d truly lost everything else: the Pachucos, his familia, _Mateo_ , he would live and he would keep fighting in his own way. Because that’s what Fly Rico does: he survives.

**Author's Note:**

> This didn’t go the way I’d thought it would when I first started planning this fic, but instead came out as a raw reaction to watching the finale. I’m heartbroken by the way things ended for Rico, even though I’d predicted he’d die from the beginning. **He deserved better.**
> 
> I may end up writing other versions of this, or else write some more, happier stories for Rico (and Mateo…once I forgive him), but this is all I have the heart for right now.
> 
> Thank you, as always, for reading and commenting. Know that I share your pain.


End file.
